Chapter Fifteen: Sudden Change

Bang! With a deafening crash, the windowpanes shattered all at once, shards scattering across the floor!

My heart leaped into my throat as I stared anxiously at each window.

Smoke from outside flooded in, and the room was instantly shrouded in a white haze—everywhere except the living room, which remained clear as if an invisible barrier kept the mist at bay.

Old Chen ceased his chanting and called out, his voice rising and falling in a strange cadence, “The life you seek is right here—come claim it yourself!”

His uncanny tone sent a chill down my spine. For a moment, I almost believed Old Chen was truly inviting a ghost to claim my life.

A slender silhouette appeared in the dense fog outside the window—hair disheveled, face obscured. My chest thundered. I’d seen this figure just last night; I’d even glimpsed her memories from when she was alive.

She stood motionless beyond the window, making no move to enter.

Old Chen repeated, “The life you want is right here—why don’t you come and take it?”

His words made my skin crawl. But I had no time to wonder if Old Chen truly meant to hand me over; my gaze was locked on that shadow, the hairs on my neck prickling, breath nearly stilled.

Still the ghostly woman stood outside, unmoving. I stared at her, afraid to look away.

Just as I convinced myself that this ghost was nothing more than a frozen image, incapable of movement, her slender form flickered—and vanished into the mist.

My heart lurched. With last night’s experience in mind, I instinctively glanced behind me. Nothing but empty space—no pale face to be found. I exhaled in relief.

Old Chen’s expression changed abruptly. He rushed to the window, exclaiming, “This is bad! She’s set her sights on that child’s life! Last night she showed no sign of this—how did it come to this? Could it be she’s haunting that child not by chance, but by design?”

I stood up, tossing aside the straw rooster. “What’s happening?”

Old Chen didn’t explain. He dashed back to the altar, seized the ritual knife, and sprinted toward the main door.

I hurried after him, bewildered, as Old Chen burst out of the house.

Outside, the fog had thickened, swirling eerily in the night.

Wenzi and the others were all waiting at the home of Dong Guangcheng, the sturdy little boy. Old Chen was clearly headed there.

My panic eased a little, and my thoughts began to clear. Judging by Old Chen’s reaction, the ghost’s obsession with Xiaochao wasn’t accidental—she wanted no one’s life but his.

I wasn’t sure whether to feel fortunate. I’d done what I could, offered what help I could muster. If the ghost was uninterested in me, that was hardly my fault.

Suddenly, a terrified scream erupted from Dong Guangcheng’s house—it was unmistakably Wenzi’s aunt!

A jumble of voices and shrieks echoed from the house. The chaos inside was palpable. My heart sank—this ghost was formidable enough to trouble even Old Chen. I could only hope nothing disastrous happened in the meantime.

Old Chen, clutching his ritual implements, kicked open the half-closed door and charged inside.

I reached the doorway and stopped short. Old Chen was in there to save people—what could I possibly do? Walk in and get myself killed?

The house was pitch black—unnaturally so. There was no way Wenzi and the others would leave the lights off at this hour. Gritting my teeth, I fumbled along the wall for the switch, but no matter how many times I pressed it, nothing happened.

Clattering and thudding echoed from upstairs, growing more frantic after Old Chen ascended. I couldn’t distinguish the voices.

I waited anxiously by the door, nerves taut. I barely knew the others, but Wenzi was still inside!

I shouted up the stairs, “Wenzi! Are you alright? Say something!”

No reply.

The chaos suddenly fell silent—abruptly, as if someone had switched off a television. The sudden stillness was jarring.

What was happening? Just moments ago, the noise meant people were still alive. But now?

I instinctively shrank behind the door, keeping my eyes on the staircase, scarcely daring to breathe. Even if the ghost was unstoppable, surely she wouldn’t kill everyone so suddenly—there would be some struggle.

Unsure what to do, I dared not make a sound, nor venture inside. All I could do was hold my breath and watch.

Time crept by, silent and oppressive. The quiet gnawed at me—had something truly terrible happened? Should I call the police? They served the people, upright and righteous; surely even a ghost would balk at them. Better that than rushing in and dying myself.

Suddenly, a pale face appeared at the top of the stairs. I jumped, ready to bolt—until I realized the face was familiar. Looking closer, I recognized Wenzi!

His pallor was due to the faint glow of his phone, making him stand out in the darkness. He frowned, his face taut with worry, eyebrows working, hands frantically signaling at me. I couldn’t make sense of his gestures.

Perplexed, I stared back. I didn’t consider myself slow, but his signals were too chaotic to decipher.

Seeing that gestures were useless, he held his phone screen to his face and mouthed silently, “Run!”

A sense of dread swept over me. Without hesitation, I turned to flee. At that moment, a shadow shot out from the darkness, flying straight toward me. It happened in an instant—before I could see what it was, I instinctively raised my hand and struck at it!

A shrill, piercing scream split the air, followed by a wave of icy cold that made me shudder and stumble back against the door.

The shadow vanished into the darkness, its wailing echoing.

My heart pounded wildly, but at least I’d kept my wits. I still clenched the talisman Old Chen had given me. Had I hesitated a moment longer, I’d be keeping that ghost company by now.

Suddenly, the rapid ringing of a bell came from inside. By the faint glow of Wenzi’s phone, I saw Old Chen charging downstairs, ritual knife in hand, leaping into the darkness. The sounds of fierce combat—thudding, crashing, colliding—followed.

Wenzi shone his phone toward the chaos, revealing Old Chen brandishing his bell and sword, locked in battle with a vague, shifting black shadow. The shadow darted and weaved with cunning agility, while Old Chen bounded and leaped like a shaman in trance.

Watching this, a chill crept over me. Even after being struck with my talisman, the spirit was still so lively. So much for the power of that talisman—Old Chen claimed it was the only one his master left him. If that was the extent of his master’s ability, could the apprentice really surpass the teacher?